A day at the CIA

Hands up. Utensils down. After three hours in the kitchen at the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y., racing to finish our assigned menu, my son, Ben, and I felt as if we'd just competed on "Top Chef." The succulent rack of lamb we prepared was sliced into chops and surrounded by fresh asparagus, painstakingly peeled and arranged on a heavy ironstone platter. The roasted red beets just needed a garnish of finely chopped parsley, which Xavier Herrera, a student at the CIA from East Chicago and our adopted sous chef, thoughtfully sprinkled on the dish for us. I quickly tried to complete a platter of Hudson Valley goat cheeses with handfuls of shelled walnuts and red raspberries, but couldn't quite manage to cut up the fresh apples and pears that also were supposed to go on the plate.

And where was the couscous? The simplest dish we made never did make it to the buffet table, but it was hardly missed. By the time all the teams from this one-day boot camp had brought out all the food we made, it was enough to feed a small army.

"I'll never complain about a chef at a restaurant again," said Barbara Japal, of Elizaville, N.Y., as we sat eating the fruits of our labors. "This was really 'hands-on' cooking."

Now we understood what goes on behind the scenes in a commercial kitchen as chefs work to get the meal out on the table, hot, delicious and looking good.

Dianne Hatcher, of Holmes, N.Y., and her mom, Joan Giordano, of Bolton Landing, N.Y., nodded in agreement.

The experience "made it so real for someone who's not a professional," said Hatcher.

For months, I'd been eagerly anticipating coming to the CIA and taking my first real cooking class. Would I be in over my head? After all, the CIA is one of the premiere cooking schools in the country and though I'm no beginner, I don't have expert skills like knowing how to debone a chicken or how to chop an onion so fine it would make you cry.

So, when I told people I was going to the CIA, I'd either get a quizzical, "You're going to spy school?" or a knowing nod, "Wow, you're going to the CIA!"

We left bright and early on Flag Day to take the leisurely 75-mile trip to upstate New York. The campus, which is much larger than I expected, is very lovely, with stately brick buildings on a manicured property dotted with gardens, fountains and breathtaking views of the Catskill Mountains. At 7:45 a.m. we met at the J. Willard Marriott Continuing Education Center for a delicious buffet breakfast of crab and avocado burritos, French toast, frittatas and steak and eggs. At our table, we met students from Brooklyn, Saratoga and Annapolis, Md., each anticipating an exciting day and all with a passion for food.

We had chosen to take the class called "Taste of the Hudson Valley," a course that focused on local and regional foods. Other choices included Flavors of Asia, Spanish Tapas, Specialty Desserts and Italian-American Classics.

The CIA has been running longer, two- to four-day boot camps, for a while, but started the one-day Saturday classes about a year ago, said Jay Blotcher, CIA spokesman. They've proven to be very popular with some people taking one class right after another, he said. These classes, which are limited to about 14 students each, are now over for the spring, but will start up again in the fall.

After breakfast, we dispersed to our separate classes for a two-hour lecture before going to the kitchen. I know it sounds long, but our instructor, Chef David

Kamen, made the time fly — just as the three hours in the kitchen did — with a dynamic, interesting discussion that compared cooking to driving a car: There's many ways to get to a destination, he said, and to a final dish, but we all start with the same basic skills.

"What is cooking?" he asked. "It's applying heat to something." There's not too many ways to do that. To learn to cook, you learn a few key skills "what differs [is] how you arrange them."

The three skills everyone should have, he said, is browning, recognizing when something is done and making a sauce. "The art of cooking is our style, the way we cook things [your] interpretation is what makes things different," he said.

To brown a piece of meat or fish

takes heat and fat or oil, which helps heat the meat more efficiently. "The more fat you apply, the more evenly the transfer of heat," he said.

Doneness is best tested by using a thermometer to take the internal temperature — 140 degrees for rare, 150 degrees for medium, etc. Once the food is done, it's time to make the sauce.

The sauce is important, he said, because it "gives us moisture, flavor and looks good."

The steps for making a sauce start with creating a fond — "the crusty brown stuff at the bottom of the pan," said Kamen. "Browning is something to give us a foundation of flavor - rich, savory, tasty flavor. You don't always want to brown, but you want flavor."

Once the fond is created, the next step is to deglaze the pan with liquid — broth, wine, water — to build up the sauce you then reduce. The sauce can thicken through reduction, but an option is to add a thickening agent, such as flour, and create a roux, he said.

To finish the sauce, add seasonings, strain or puree the sauce, then add cream and garnish. Viola. You're done.

Kamen divided the 12 of us, four men and 8 women, into five teams. Ben, 32, was probably one of the youngest people at the camp. He and I were on one team. Each team had its own menu. In the kitchen, which we shared with the Italian cooking class, Kamen gave us safety instructions, how to use the stove, emphasized the importance of washing our hands and a deadline of 1:30 p.m. to have all our food on the table to share with the other classes.

Our menu included a rack of lamb, two vegetables, couscous and a cheese platter. Sounds doable until you get started. Other teams had grilled steaks, striped sea bass, foie gras and fresh pea soup to prepare. Our stations were neatly set up with two metal pans, one for food scraps, one for non-food trash (paper, plastic wrap, etc), two cutting boards, two chef knives and a bag of food stuffs we'd need to complete our menus. Armed with recipes, we had 10 minutes to plan our attack.

Now I have to say, the first thing that surprised me was the recipes. In the lecture, Kamen said he didn't believe in giving out recipes because there were thousands of them out there on the Internet and books. Our mission was to learn to cook. Since the course was to focus on local ingredients you could get at farm stands, having this one in June, when fresh produce is just slowly coming to market, seemed odd, especially when unwrapping raspberries from Argentina. One group did use local dandelion greens for a salad and local foie gras, but as my son pointed out, we were being prepared for the summer bounty to come. Still, the recipe thing seemed a disconnect. I thought there would be a group demonstration first on how to brown, test doneness and create a sauce. In fact, peeling three pounds of asparagus, which I normally wouldn't do, but Herrera suggested, and tracking down equipment in the unfamiliar kitchen — like measuring spoons, saut pans, mixing bowls, breadcrumbs — was more time consuming then I expected. Kamen did stop us from time to time with "teachable moments," as he called them when he demonstrated how to "french" the rack of lamb — way beyond my or Ben's expertise — puree the pea soup or cut up the foie gras. It was more a race to the finish then completing a composed dish or two. I asked Herrera to teach me how to chop the herbs we used — parsley, thyme, mint and rosemary — because learning better knife skills was a goal of mine for the class. He gladly showed me and I picked it up right away.

By the time the clock ran down, Herrera was scurrying to find us serving platters and there really was no time to think about presentation, another skill I had hoped to learn. We wound up tossing food on plates as best we could with Ben expertly cutting the rack of lamb into individual chops. Well done.

The baking class' desserts were magnificently displayed and it was obvious they spent time on presentation.

For the number of people and the amount of time, I thought the menus were too ambitious and resulted in way too much food. I noticed some people, obviously veterans of the boot camp, had brought Tupperware for leftovers. Smart.

After eating, we went back to the classroom to discuss the day and the consensus seemed to be that everyone really enjoyed the experience and would take more classes. Everything tasted good and chef agreed.

Japal said she expected more instruction in the kitchen and Ben and I agreed, but Hatcher said, "I loved that he gave us so much confidence. He allowed for interpretation. For me that's what cooking is about."

As almost an anti-climax, there was still one more presentation. Students had a choice between a class on the physiology of taste and a class on tasting olive oils and balsamic vinegars, which we attended. It was the icing on the cake — informative, fun, but not altogether necessary. I think we could have left after lunch feeling satisfied, not stuffed.

Was it what we expected? On the 90-minute ride home Ben and I discussed that. (The cooking class was a birthday present for him.) Well, no. The lecture was good, but the kitchen seemed chaotic. As newbies, we weren't coming away with as much confidence or new skills as we would have liked. But, we did leave with a memorable experience, a cool CIA apron and a wooden spoon to inspire us to become a top chef even if it's just at home.

The one-day Saturday boot camps run from 7:45 a.m. to 4 p.m. and cost $325. Call 1-800-888-7850 for more information and reservations.

Roast Rack of Lamb Persille

2 racks of lamb, 2 lbs. each, frenched (have your butcher do this)

Salt, as needed

Pepper, as needed

1 teaspoon rosemary, chopped

1 teaspoon thyme, chopped

Oil, as needed

1 cup mirepoix (combination of diced onions, carrots, celery)

1 cup brown lamb or veal stock

Arrowroot or cornstarch slurry, as needed, optional

1/2 cup Dijon mustard

Persillade:

1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs

2 garlic cloves, mashed to paste

1 tablespoon parsley, chopped

1/4 cup butter, melted

Salt, as needed Season the lamb with salt and pepper and rub with rosemary, thyme and oil. Place the lamb on a rack in a roasting pan. Roast at 400 degrees for 15 minutes. Scatter the mirepoix around the lamb, reduce the temperature to 350 degrees and continue to roast to the desired doneness, to an internal temperature of 130 degrees (about 45 minutes).

To prepare the sauce, place the roasting pan on the stovetop and cook until the mirepoix is browned and the fat is clear. Pour off all the fat. Add the stock, stirring to release the fond (the stock) completely. Simmer the jus for 20 to 30 minutes, or until it reaches the proper consistency and flavor. Optional: Add enough arrowroot or cornstarch slurry to thicken the sauce enough to coat the back of the spoon.

Degrease and adjust seasonings to taste. Strain through a fine-meshed sieve. Set aside. To prepare the persillade, mix all the ingredients together to make an evenly moistened mixture. Transfer the lamb to a sheet pan. Smear the entire surface evenly with mustard, then spread the persillade on top of the lamb rack, pressing firmly to form a crust. Return the lamb to a 400 degree oven and continue to cook until the crumbs are lightly browned. Cut the lamb into chops and serve with the jus.

— The Culinary Institute of America